Winter is hot this year, And I don’t mean the weather My skin burns around the notes etched Into my skin, sketched Under the sleeve of my coat  Or is it a jacket? Shacket? Whatever… It’s...

Verbal jousting A match of wits, you say But your wits are as sharp as dandelion So you strike back with your ego Which is as fragile as glass Yet sharp as tacks Because you do not yield You...